Quarterback Keeper (Fall Lake Ballers #1)

Chapter Nine

CHAPTER NINE

KYLIAN

W e entered my condo quietly, since it was the middle of the night. Back in my room, I paced the length of it. I had school, practice, and several other obligations the next day, and I’d spent hours I didn’t have to spare looking for Gia. She was driving me crazy. “We need a rule that neither of us walks until the contract comes to its natural conclusion.”

“Then don’t push me on a public announcement.”

“Look, I don’t like our arrangement any more than you do, but we’re both getting something out of it, so deal with it.” I paused and, with great effort, shoved aside my animosity toward her, instead scrutinizing everything she wasn’t saying.

She’d moved across the room and lain in the middle of my bed. Is she finally getting comfortable with me? She appeared relaxed, with her long, toned legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. But her full lips pressed tightly together and the tense set of her shoulders as she leaned against my headboard told me more than her words.

“What are you hiding? Because trust me, the press will get a picture of us together, if they haven’t already.” They would dig into her life too.

I’d seen a reporter hanging around when we’d first arrived. I thought she’d noticed because her hand had gone up, but maybe it had just been in reaction to the flash of light.

“Why would you think I’m hiding something? I went to your mom’s, didn’t I?”

“Look, Gia.” Frustration itched along my skin. She wasn’t the only one with secrets. I hadn’t told her about the pressure from my dad. “I’ve got a long day tomorrow and need to sleep. Can we agree that neither of us is going to walk early? That you won’t take off on me and get caught looking upset by an eager reporter with a camera? Because it’ll happen, then my mom, who doesn’t believe us yet, will have even more unnecessary stress.”

“Okay.” A puff of air left her mouth. “I’ll agree to honor the contract and not take off on you. I’m doing this for your mom because she doesn’t need more bullshit. But I won’t opt into a photoshoot.”

“Whatever. We can talk about it more tomorrow. I need to sleep, and it would be much easier if you crashed here tonight.”

“I don’t—” The color drained from her face.

“Nothing will happen.” What is her problem? “It’s a king-sized bed. If you want to, you can put a wall of pillows between us.” I could take the couch, but why? As soon as my head hit the pillow, I would pass out.

“Fine.”

After her reluctant agreement, we took turns getting ready for bed. I loaned her a T-shirt to sleep in, hit the lights, and passed the fuck out.

The shrill beep of my phone’s alarm woke me all too soon. Blindly, I slapped the phone until it stopped. It was too early. For another few minutes, I lay there, orienting myself. Neither of us had breached the wall of pillows Gia had built, but I was all too aware of her body on the other side. That girl was a puzzle I needed to figure out, but it would be better if I didn’t. So much tension and distrust stood between us. And I hated the fact that I wanted her.

“You awake?” I whispered in the dark room.

“Yeah, kind of hard not to be after your loud-ass alarm went off.”

I grunted in agreement—I wasn’t sorry it had woken her. “Get up if you want a ride back to the harbor. I’ve got a run this morning and class.”

“This is inhumane.”

“Nespresso and coffee pods are in the kitchen.”

She grumbled then threw the covers off, somehow flinging them onto me. I tracked her slender form as she went toward the kitchen. I needed to get her—and how we hadn’t agreed on anything other than that we would both stick with the deal until the tragic end—out of my mind.

I showered and got dressed before joining her in the kitchen. She had on one of my practice shirts, which fell to midthigh. Her long, dark hair had that just-fucked look, and it took everything in me not to drag her back to bed. I regretted not negotiating more into our contract.

She lifted a mug to her lips, eyes at half-mast and sexy as hell. “Coffee?”

Fuck my life. “No time.” I needed to keep my head on straight. I had class then practice. Nothing else in the world mattered more than football and my mom’s health. I couldn’t let this girl, or how I wanted to do so many things to her, get in the way of my goals. But we did need to practice touching, since Mom was already suspicious and the whole act was about her happiness. Same with going pro early.

After that last round of bills from her treatment and my dad’s refusal to chip in any more unless I agreed to his demands, I’d finally decided to put off graduating. Once I went pro, we would be free from relying on Dad’s blackmail to pay for her treatments. “Need a ride?”

“No. I’ll take the bus or, um, maybe call an Uber.”

I kissed the top of her head on the way to the door, inhaling her vanilla and honey scent, then hightailed it out of there, an unsettling feeling chasing me the entire way. How natural kissing her felt was weird as fuck.

School and football were what I needed. Better than thinking about the ridiculousness of my life. I had three classes, and I plowed through them after grabbing a to-go coffee. Practice was next. I entered the spacious locker room to the familiar sounds of guys talking and laughing. I nodded to a few teammates then took my place next to Ares and Liam, who were already inside. I sat on the bench and tied my cleats as Ares tugged his practice jersey over his pads.

Liam took a seat next to me, already dressed. “What’s up with the girl? I saw her early this morning. Is she gonna be a regular thing?”

I glared, irrationally angry that he might have seen her barely dressed. I should have thought about that before I left. His morning class started later than mine. “Yeah, she is.”

“What’s up with that, man? You don’t usually hit a jersey chaser twice.”

“Shut up about her. Not a jersey chaser.” I scrubbed my hands over my face, not liking the complication, but I needed to let them in on the agreement between Gia and me. “I’ll explain later.”

“She took off before we left for class.” Ares leaned against the lockers, his gaze boring into mine.

“Get on the field now!” Coach crossed the locker room on the way to the field, clipboard in hand.

“Thanks, Ares.” I pushed off the bench to my feet and headed out with Ares and Liam.

As soon as we hit the field, my problems faded. It was always like that with football. I warmed up with Liam and Ares. Liam, my go-to wide receiver, ran the new routes, while Ares worked the kinks out of a few trick plays.

I’d met with Coach last week to develop three new plays for our arsenal. Our plays had crazy, varied names that required a lot of memorizing for all of us. On top of homework and watching film to prepare for upcoming games, it took a massive amount of time. I gladly invested everything I had into it, except what I reserved for Mom. Dinners and occasions when she needed help with doctor visits or care after treatments were nonnegotiable and something I’d worked out with Coach—to a degree. He would pull me if I started throwing interceptions or missed connections on the field.

Calvin, the second-string quarterback, fell into step with me. “Don’t listen to what the fans are saying about the Michigan game. You’re a good quarterback.”

Fuck off. I wanted to say it, but that wasn’t how I should lead my team. “I don’t let random comments get to me.”

“That’s good. Especially the ones about your mom. That would get to anyone, but you’re a rock. And that sweet piece the blog sites have a picture of, bet that helps take your mind off everything that’s so far out of your control.”

“Get on the fucking field, Calvin.”

He laughed and jogged to the backup wide receivers to throw the football lobbed to him for a screen play.

Short of punching him, I couldn’t go there with what Calvin had said about Mom, and that wouldn’t help the team or me. It certainly wouldn’t help Mom.

Would a picture of Gia and me out there be so bad? It might get my dad off my back. I threw a few passes, but thoughts of Gia were lodged in my head, which rarely happened on the field. I ground my teeth then overthrew a pass.

“Head in the game,” Liam said under his breath before he took off running a route.

My head was so far from the game. It was stuck on Gia. She was an anomaly, a fucking problem, really. I needed her to be a solution.

When we lined up and scrimmaged, my mind continued to wander—to Gia, my dad’s demands for publicity to help him, and Mom’s health. What I was usually able to block out broke through and screwed with my head. I threw passes short or too long. I mixed up the direction of a new play.

“Wilder!” Coach bellowed from the sideline.

I ground my teeth, yanked off my helmet, and jogged to him.

“What’s going on?” Coach Becket’s mustache worked overtime with the aggressive way he chewed his nicotine gum.

“Nothing, Coach.” Frustration buzzed through my veins. No way would I unload everything to him. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“I know you’ve got a lot on your plate with your mom’s illness, Wilder, but if you can’t get your head on straight for Bama’s game, I’ll have to bench you.”

“Understood.” I dragged my arm across my forehead, swiping some sweat away. “I’ll get control of it.”

“See that you do.”

I cringed at the shrill sound of Coach’s whistle as he signaled the end of practice. Several teammates clapped me on the shoulder or back as they passed by for the locker room.

“You’ve got this, Wilder,” Marc, the other tight end, said.

“Get whatever girl is messing with the game under you and out of your mind,” Steve, our center, growled as he slapped me on the back.

If only it were that simple. I uncurled my fists, wishing it weren’t the end of my time on the field. I needed to get back in the zone. Gia breaking through was unacceptable. Luckily, we had a line of demarcation that would not be crossed, symbolized by her pillow barricade. It was a damn good thing she lived on the boat.

Ares fell into step at my side, Liam just ahead of us as we entered the building.

“You were off your game, and the only difference I could see was that chick,” Liam said over his shoulder. “You need to do something to get her out of your head. Tap that, quit it, and kick her to the curb for good. You have too much riding on the next few games.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.” I got where Liam was coming from, though. During my first two years in college, I had been a player too. But never at his level. I cared about football and training more than partying or hooking up. Liam never slept with the same girl twice.

“A decisive win against Alabama could put you in a position to go pro without waiting for the draft,” Ares reminded me. “Florida and Philadelphia need a new quarterback, and I’ve heard they’re looking at you hard.”

“I’m not going to fuck up that game.”

“Then what’s going on?” Ares yanked off his jersey and tossed it into his bag. “It’s not like you to let anything throw off your game. But, man”—Ares glanced a few lockers over, dropping his voice so no one else could hear—“if Calvin leaks anything to the press about your performance today, he’ll spin it that you’re not stable or mature enough for an NFL contract.”

I threw my cleat harder than necessary. It thudded against the back of my locker. Calvin Fucking Matthews had been gunning for QB1 ever since I took over the spot my first year, when the former quarterback went on IR with a ruptured Achilles tendon.

It wasn’t going to happen. Calvin didn’t have the talent I did, or the ability to lead.

Still, I needed to do something to circumvent any more problems, and more would come. Because I knew how Calvin operated, and it wasn’t an if—it was a when. His social media presence was an issue. I glared in his direction, noting how he was already flapping his gums, live streaming some bullshit he shouldn’t. I knew what I had to do—eliminate any damage Calvin inflicted because of my “marriage” to Gia. Steady and mature wouldn’t be an issue.

Many coaches preferred their players to have stable home lives. Not that it was a deciding factor for recruits, but it wouldn’t hurt. It was why I needed to announce our engagement publicly. Decision made, I finished dressing in gym clothes to hit the weights. On the way out, I ran into Siobhan, a reporter for Baller News Blog, and gave her the tip that should help buffer me from multiple problems, just as my phone rang.

Dad. His timing just fucking figured.